Proud
by Gwendolyn James
Summary: I looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight stiffened my resolve. Yes. I could do it. I could do it for her. I would make her proud. One-shot.


Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! Not even the plot bunny! Some lines were taken directly from CoS pp. 256, 257, 267, and 270.

A/N: This sweet little bunny was generously given to me by my dear Ri, who is oh-so-fabulous and loffly.

* * *

I couldn't believe it. They were canceling the Quidditch match? What could be that important? I pushed my way through the crowd and finally found myself at Harry's side. Professor McGonagall was speaking to him; it looked serious. 

"Potter, I think you'd better come with me."

Harry was in trouble? As far as I knew, he hadn't done anything wrong – at least, not lately. I moved closer to him – if he was in trouble, so was I – when McGonagall caught my eye.

"Yes, perhaps you'd better come, too, Weasley."

Great. Apparently I really _was_ in trouble. Harry and I exchanged a look; neither of us knew what we had done. But we _did_ know that arguing with Professor McGonagall was completely futile, so we followed her up to the castle without a word. I was expecting to go to her office for the Spanish Inquisition, but instead she led us to the Hospital Wing. Since when did students receive their punishments in the Hospital Wing? Maybe she was planning to hex us and wanted Madam Pomfrey to restore us after we had learned our lesson…

My thoughts were cut short as she pulled back the curtains around one of the beds.

"Hermione…"

The groan escaped me before I could stop it. There she was, lying on the hospital bed, a look of fear frozen on her face.

Petrified.

My heart stopped. How? How had this happened? Why had it happened? And why to Hermione? It couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. I looked over at Harry – he was in the same state I was. We just couldn't believe this had happened to her.

McGonagall was saying something about a mirror; did it mean anything to us? Not really… why would Hermione be carrying a mirror around? She wasn't the type of girl who was terribly concerned about her appearance. I couldn't make sense of it. I just shook my head in response. The small mirror meant nothing to me.

I wished it had.

Still in shock, Harry and I trudged down to Hagrid's… he would know what to do. He always did. Unfortunately, he was in a state of panic, which was quite odd for him. But when Professor Dumbledore and the Minister showed up – and then Malfoy's dad – I understood Hagrid's nervousness. When he was taken away, muttering something about spiders, I knew we were in deep. How could we possibly handle this on our own? Hermione was the brains of our operation. She was the one who could have made sense out of these circumstances.

But this time it was up to us.

We tried to visit her in the Hospital Wing again, but Madam Pomfrey told us that the petrified victims were not allowed visitors. A load of bollocks, in my opinion, but there wasn't anything we could do. It would require much more cunning than I had in me.

Luckily, I was related to the sneakiest gits every born. The next day, I tracked down Fred and George, swore them to secrecy, and begged them to help me get into the Hospital Wing. At first they were reluctant, teasing me about my reasons, until I threatened to expose their latest escapade to Mum, and then they were much more agreeable. They promised to think on it and get back to me with a plan. It would have to do for the moment.

The rest of the week was miserable. No Hermione bugging me to do my work. No Hermione to wallop in Wizard's Chess. No Hermione to laugh at my stupid jokes. I couldn't think of anything but her – I was worried more than I had ever been in my entire life.

Of course, that bloody git Malfoy didn't make it any better, making snide remarks throughout double Potions.

"Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger."

I snapped. How dare he? I jumped off my stool, intent on wiping that smirk right off his ugly face, but I was robbed of the opportunity.

"Let me at him," I growled as Harry and Dean hung onto my arms, holding me back. "I don't care, I don't need my wand, I'm going to kill him with my bare hands…" I would have, too, if they had just let me go. I honestly think I could have killed him, right then and there. It would have been worth a life sentence in Azkaban.

The day was only salvaged by Fred and George, who had miraculously found a way for me to get inside the Hospital Wing after everyone else had gone to bed. I listened carefully to their directions and then asked Harry if I could borrow his cloak for the night. I didn't tell him why – he would want to join me, and this was something I wanted – _needed_ – to do on my own.

Sneaking through the black corridors would have been exciting if my purpose hadn't been so serious. I might have even dared to do something to Snape as he passed me by, but I was determined to complete my mission.

I followed the twins' directions to the letter, and set off the fireworks successfully. It wouldn't buy me a lot of time, so I had to take advantage of what I got. When Madam Pomfrey came rushing out into the corridor to see the cause of the commotion, I slipped through the door and over to Hermione's bed.

She was still there, still in the same frozen position she had been in the last time. Making sure I was covered by the invisibility cloak, I took a seat beside the bed and looked down at my best friend.

She looked so cold, so frail, lying there with her eyes open, her arm outstretched. It broke my heart.

"Hi, Hermione," I whispered, knowing I wouldn't get a response, but nonetheless disappointed when one didn't come. "It's me, Ron. I came to see how you're doing." My throat felt clogged, but I wouldn't let myself cry. Instead, I reached out and took her icy hand in mine. "We've missed you, Harry and me. A bit lost without you, really."

I knew she would laugh at that had she been awake. _Don't be silly, Ron,_ she'd say. But secretly she'd be pleased that we needed her.

"I'm really sorry this happened," I continued, fully aware that my time was running out. "I wish it'd been me instead. Wish I could take your place." As soon as I said the words, I realized just how true they were. Why _couldn't_ it have been me? It wasn't fair. I swallowed hard. "I'm scared, Hermione, really scared," I admitted, glad she couldn't hear me, "and I don't know what to do. _You_ would know – you always know. But I promise we'll solve this. Harry and I will do everything we can to find who did this to you."

The creak of the door alerted me to Madam Pomfrey's return. I had to hurry. Giving her hand one last squeeze, I whispered, "I promise," and dashed to the door, slipping out before it was closed behind me.

That visit carried me through the next few days. It carried me through Malfoy's snide remarks, through Snape's miserable Potions lessons, through every meal without her. It even carried me through that idiot Lockhart's blabbing about the danger being gone now that Hagrid was in Azkaban.

I was sitting in another insufferable Defense lesson and taking unintelligible notes, when Harry reached over and scribbled something on my parchment.

_Let's do it tonight._

I knew what he meant: Follow the spiders. Obviously not my first choice for a plan, but it was all we had. I swallowed hard. Could I go through with it?

I looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight stiffened my resolve. Yes. I could do it. I could do it for Hermione. I would make her proud.

The forest. The spiders. The Chamber. Every step of the way I reminded myself of why we were doing this. I imagined her face in my mind – frozen in fear, caught by some unknown monster. Everything we did was for her, to protect her, to restore her, to avenge her.

And on the day she returned to us, her eyes told me that she was, indeed, proud of us.

FIN


End file.
